Lord, I was born a ramblin' ...person

I've often felt that the wee hours of the morning were excellent times to ponder deep questions, such as, Why are we here? Who am I really? What am I going to do with my life? Why does my wireless internet only work at 4:30 in the morning? Where is my roommate? Why does my hall smell like fish?

Anyways, been packing. Dad is coming at some ungodly hour to take my stuff home. I hate packing. Also, I am slow. At packing, that is.

So, I'm watching "Crouton" "Croatian" "Croatoan" after reading some whining criticism on it. After intense meditation, I think I've discovered how it was supposed to go:

( The Making of Croatoan )

Bed time. Ubi est mea amica cubiculae?